


Miscellaneous Kinkmeme Fills

by KitsJay



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Grimm (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Snippets, kinkmeme fills, so hey guess what I was the Christmas anon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 10:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17806682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitsJay/pseuds/KitsJay
Summary: Some of my shorter kinkmeme fills from the Grimm kinkmeme.Chapter 1: Renard's group tries to save Nick from himself. [Gen]Chapter 2: A sleepy morning for Nick and Monroe. [Nick/Monroe]Chapter 3: This could have been prevented if only Nick had a sassy gay friend. [Nick/Monroe]Chapter 4: A kiss in the pouring rain. [Nick/Monroe]Chapter 5: Garcia (Criminal Minds) and Monroe bond over coffee. [Gen]Chapter 6: Nick tries to plan Christmas. Monroe interferes.





	1. Renard's Rules of Order

**Author's Note:**

> Originally filled on the Grimm kinkmeme.

“Order, order,” Monroe called. The general shuffling and murmuring of the crowd died down gradually. He nodded to Renard. “You have the floor.”

“Thank you,” Renard said. “Let the second meeting of the Keep Nick Burkhardt Alive (Despite Himself) club commence. The secretary will now read the last minutes.”

Roddy, who through some creative endeavoring, had managed to include the club as an official “position” for his college applications, cleared his throat. “Vice President Adalind Shade expressed frustration with Nick Burkhardt and suggested that he be locked up in a small cage until he showed self-preservation instincts. Historian Monroe seconded the motion and it was taken to a vote, until President Renard overruled. There was discontent.”

A ripple of annoyance ran through the crowd; most had agreed it was the most sensible thing to do.

“The scouts, including Buddy Hopper, Jim Johnson, and Ty Wilson, brought up concerns that the subject was aware of their presence.”

“Maybe if you didn’t park across his house in your car,” Adalind Shade interrupted peevishly. The trio of workers skittered away from her, their faces shifting into large teeth and whiskers quivering with suppressed fear. Renard gave them a look until even Adalind looked contrite.

“Ahem, if you don’t mind,” Roddy said primly. He resumed his reading, “The club called on Holly to testify,” here he paused for a brief, encouraging smile at his girlfriend. The members of the club rolled their eyes collectively at the show of teenage puppy love. “She agreed to act as base reconnaissance. So far subject is unaware.”

“Big surprise,” muttered Monroe.

“Thank you, Roddy,” Renard said, lounging in his chair. “As for official business, it appears Nick Burkhardt has a new case.”

He waited out the inevitable groans, holding up a sympathetic hand. “I know you all have full-time jobs—“

“Watching Nick _is_ a full-time job,” someone piped up miserably.

“But,” Renard continued with a stern look, “it appears this is a creature-related incident. Due to its relation to a former crime he has investigated, it would appear jagerbars are involved. For this reason, I motion that Frank Rabe be in charge with watching over the investigation.”

“And make sure Nick doesn’t get himself killed,” Monroe added.

“Indeed. Frank? What do you say?”

“I’ve got my hands full with cases right now—" Frank began, then gulped and backpedaled at Renard’s warning look. “But I’ll watch out for the baby Grimm. I owe him, anyway.”

“Good. The floor?”

“I second the motion,” Holly said, raising her hand.

“Third it,” Monroe said flippantly.

“Then the motion is called to a vote. All in favor, say yea.”

There was a dull ‘yea’ from the crowd. “All against?” Silence.

“Good,” Renard said, looking pleased and a little bit smug. “Then the motion is passed. I entrust our newest Grimm to your more than capable hands. Meeting adjourned.”

 

The two baristas leaned on the counter, watching the motley crowd disperse slowly, some wearing blue workers’ uniforms, others in suits, and still others in ungodly awful sweaters that looked like something a grandmother would passive-aggressively knit for sons who had fallen out of her matriarchal favor.

“What kind of club is it?” one asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Who knows?” her colleague said with a shrug. “I just know they meet here every Tuesday.”

“Weird.”

 

“Really, I’m good,” Nick said, shooting worried looks at the man following him. He had his white pressed shirt sleeves turned up and was complaining about the mud being thrown onto his woolen trouser pants. “You don’t need to be out here.”

“Oh, no,” Frank Rabe said earnestly. “I really do.”

“Why?”

“To help you. I owe you and all that.”

Nick whirled on him, hands on his hips and exasperation all over his face. “What is going on here?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” the lawyer fidgeted.

“I mean, first there’s that car parked outside of my house nearly every night, Holly popping up out of the blue for no reason at all, Monroe suddenly is more clingy than Velcro, and now you’re following me around. It’s starting to get downright weird.”

 _Starting_ to? Frank thought to himself. The guy really was this oblivious.

“Uh—"

“Tell me,” Nick said threateningly.

Frank held up his hands. “Listen, you’re not like other Grimms. You listen, you’re fair, you don’t hunt for fun.”

“Okay,” Nick said slowly. He made a ‘gimme’ gesture with his hand.

Frank continued reluctantly, “So we just thought it would be in everybody’s best interests to keep an eye on you. Just for safety’s sake.”

Nick stared at him, mouth open. He coughed. “That’s… really nice, but,” Nick tapped his holster meaningfully. “I am trained and all.”

“Not in this,” Frank said honestly. “You need help.”

“And I get it, when I need it,” Nick protested.

“Not all the time.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Two weeks ago, the hellcat?”

Nick shrugged. “That was an honest mistake.”

“A month ago, with the falcon?”

“Not my fault,” Nick said defensively. “He came out of nowhere!”

“And the car accident in February—“

“That wasn’t even creature related!”

“My point,” Frank said meaningfully, “is that you’re not going to last very long at this rate, and so you have friends who want to make sure you’re okay. Alive, and okay.”

“I still don’t—“

Frank leapt, pushing Nick to the ground and covering him with his body just as an eldritch shriek split the air. Nick was already fumbling for his gun underneath him and Frank rolled over to let him take a shot.

“That,” he said, panting on the ground. “Is exactly what I mean.”

Nick offered him a hand up. “Still don’t need your help,” he said, blithely continuing into the forest to hunt the creature down. Frank tramped after him, staring mournfully at his ruined pants.

“Of course you don’t.”

He wondered if the club had a resignation policy that didn’t cost an arm and an ear.


	2. Sleeping In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sleepy morning for Nick and Monroe.

Monroe woke slowly, warm and comfortable, the heater whirring dully in the background thrum of the house. Even when it was left on all night, the wood floors held the cold jealously, and he could feel the chill from the night still cooped up in the confines of the room. He ducked further under the blankets, tugging on them to get Nick to roll off of the edges so that he could properly nest them around their two bodies. Nick let out a breathy 'mmm' of contentment and snuggled closer to his body. His toes brushed the tops of Monroe's feet; despite being tucked under blankets for the entire night, they still felt like ice cubes. Monroe winced but allowed it, feeling them gradually warm against his body heat.

Monroe draped an arm around him. Nick had the day off barring any unexpected cases, a rarity, and Monroe had decided to follow suit. He was mostly caught up on work anyway, the antiquities dealers he worked with slowing down to relax for the holidays. All he wanted to do today was relax with Nick. He had a strict routine, though, and now that he was awake, he couldn't fall back to sleep, not even with Nick's heart beating in a regular rhythm against his own chest, his soft breaths stirring against Monroe's neck, the warm thigh tucked between his own.

He sniffed at the side of Nick's neck, following the scent of sleep-warm-musk to the tender spot underneath his ear. He bit gently at it, barely more noticeable than a caress, but Nick hummed happily at the attention. Monroe pulled back, not surprised to see Nick's eyes blinking sleepily open, half-lidded and heavy, still foggy with half-remembered dreams.

"Mornin'," Nick rasped, yawning.

Monroe rubbed his thumb in circles on Nick's back, relishing the touch not meant to stir, but to soothe. "You should go back to sleep," Monroe said. Maybe it was just his nature, or maybe a detective's erratic schedule, but Nick could fall asleep anywhere at a moment's notice. He had been working overtime for the past few weeks, and the price was plainly apparent in the still bruised skin under his eyes.

Nick's eyelashes fluttered as he caught another yawn from escaping. They drifted shut, and Monroe thought he was asleep, when Nick's hand came up, grasping blindly until he found Monroe's arm and followed it down, tangling their fingers together and clutching them between their chests.

"I'm good," Nick mumbled, eyes still closed.

Monroe let his other hand curl up under Nick's head, carding through his hair and leaving it mussed in his hand's path.

"Do you want to do anything today?"

"Stay here?"

Monroe nodded, even though Nick couldn't see the motion. "We can do that. Watch a movie, hang out."

There was a low rumbling, a laugh caught somewhere in the morning, and Nick smiled. "I meant in bed."

"For the whole day?" Monroe said.

Nick finally blinked his eyes half open, lips still curled into a half smile. "Why not?"

Monroe blinked.

"Why not?" he said to himself. The chores could wait, his pilates could be done later, and Nick was against his body, content and dozing and everything he wanted right this moment.

He couldn't really think of a good reason why not.

So instead, he rearranged the quilted blanket so that it was tucked firmly under Nick's body, nudged Nick until his nose nudged the crook of Monroe's neck and shoulder, and listened to his breaths gentle into sleep again.

Everything else could wait.


	3. No Fairy Jokes, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This could have been prevented if only Nick had a sassy gay friend.

There was the heavy sound of breathing, jeans brushing against each other and the snap and crackling of dry twigs and pine underfoot. Nick's eyes were wide in his face, gun loaded, safety off, and he brought it up, scanning the woods for any sign of the other blutbad. Monroe panted beside him, sniffing the air occasionally and looking desperate.

From the northwest, a branch cracked and they whirled, Nick sighting the gun and breathing out, trying to calm himself. He would only have time for one shot.

Another blutbad burst from the underbrush. His eyes were a dull red and the smell of him was enough to turn Monroe's stomach.

"Enough," the other blutbad growled. "A Grimm? You would betray your own kind?"

"I haven't betrayed--look, why don't you go your way and I'll go mine and he'll go mine, and--"

"Shut up!" The blutbad took a step closer, ready to attack. Monroe primed himself. Nick's finger found the trigger.

All of this was prevented by a Sassy Gay Friend, who suddenly appeared out of the underbrush wearing a loud scarf wrapped around his neck.

"What, what, WHAT are you doing?" he asked.

The three looked at him, nonplussed at his appearance.

"Monroe, honey, what is _this_?"

Monroe coughed. "Um."

"If you had just listened and let your boyfriend _tell_ people you were together--or were you embarrassed by him?"

"It wasn't like that!" Monroe protested, but Nick gave him a hurt look.

"You sure didn't act like you weren't..." he said lowly.

The SGF nodded sagely. "I can't believe you! If he were smarter, he would have kicked your lyin' ass out!" He punctuated this with a snap of his fingers and a head bobble.

He whirled on Nick. "And you, really? You never take him out on dates, except this." He wrinkled his nose. "Ew. Camping. Take him out for a steak dinner, honey!"

Finally he turned to the blutbad and looked him up and down.

"And you..."

The blutbad stared at him.

The SGF leaned back and gave him an evaluating look. "You've got the basics of the outdoorsy, butch look down, but there is such a thing as too much. And your _hair_!" He paused dramatically. "This calls for ~makeover!~"

He grabbed him through the arm and led him away, excitedly telling the interested blutbad about the wonders of hair gel and contact lenses.

 

When Nick and Monroe got home, and after they had made up in a scene which definitely rated above PG-13, Nick wandered out to the trailer and opened the Grimm Book O' Creatures. He flipped through until he found the right page.

**Sassy Gay Friend: A common enough creature, appearing mainly in desperate relationship straits and makeover montages, wearing a flamboyant scarf and affecting mannerisms.**

**Extremely dangerous. Approach with caution. And for God's sakes, don't let one re-decorate your house!**


	4. Another Fall of Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A kiss in the pouring rain.

The rain was falling steadily around him, soaking the concrete and streaming off of the awning of the covered basketball court in steady streams of water. Nick was sitting alone on a bench, uncaring of the way the cold sank into his clothes and through to the bone. The rain tasted salty, running off his nose and resting on his lips. The rest of the park’s visitors had packed up when the storm had broken free, running for their cars with their jackets held up over their heads, laughing or cursing as they headed somewhere warm and dry, barely noticing him as they rushed past.

Nick just sat, contemplating his hands. They were wet, holding a soggy piece of paper. He stared at it blankly, not comprehending what it was saying anymore. It was just a symbol of just another thing that he had lost; he was getting used to losing things, losing people.

From across the park, a figure spotted him and loped across the grass as fast as he could. His shoes slipped in the mud, he stumbled, regained his footing and continued until he was standing in front of Nick, clothes plastered to his skin, hair pushed back and dripping down the back of his neck with chilly wetness.

Nick glanced up and stood uncertainly, took a hesitant step toward him.

Monroe rushed toward him, wrapping one arm around his waist and pulling him tight against his own body, the other twisting in Nick’s hair as their mouths met, tongues tangling together, Nick’s arms around Monroe’s neck, clutching at his shirt, climbing upward to cradle Monroe’s face in his hands and pull him closer, letting out a desperate noise. Monroe responded by breaking free of his grasp, murmuring reassurances into his ear and brushing back Nick’s wet hair from his face, thumb caressing his cheek in comforting circles. Nick turned his face to meet him, kissing him again, wanting to feel skin on his own and reassure him that this was real. The rain ran between their bodies, splattering over their faces and running down their cheeks.

It was everything it was supposed to be. The paper, words long since escaped in inky rivulets, fell unheeded to the ground from Nick’s hand. It really wasn’t important what it said anymore, not when Monroe was holding him like he was never going to let him go, not when his mouth was warm and the rain was falling down around them in wet splatters as drops hit the ground. It was perfect, just like this.

 

Monroe broke away, shaking his head. "I can't believe someone cast a _romance_ spell on the city. Who would do that?"

Nick shrugged. "Someone who really likes romantic comedies?"

"Ugh."

Nick smiled sympathetically as they walked back to the car in the rain. "It could have been worse. You could have had to run through airport security to catch me before I boarded onto a plane."

"And gotten arrested by TSA," Monroe added. He shuddered. "I thought Grimms were scary. Those people are _terrifying_."


	5. Ceci N'est Pas Une Fill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garcia (Criminal Minds) and Monroe bond over coffee.

Garcia paused in her typing, sniffing the air like a bloodhound who had just caught a fresh scent.

"Do you smell that?" she demanded of Reid, who took an inquisitive whiff and shrugged.

"I smell coffee," Garcia announced. "Good coffee."

She followed her nose, Reid trailing after her, to the kitchen of their informal base of operations, where Monroe was buttering his toast and muttering dire threats about ever letting Nick into his house again and talking him into things. The coffeemaker was gurgling happily.

"Oh my god," Garcia said. Monroe jumped, smearing butter all over his sleeve. He was unprepared for Garcia running over and giving him a trapped hug, his face pleading with Reid over her shoulder. She released him and fluttered by the coffemaker, a red-headed, brightly dressed butterfly who was unhealthily addicted to coffee. "That's..." She sniffed again, with the expression of a wine connoisseur sniffing the bouquet. "Guatemalan highlands craft-roasted, if I don't miss my guess."

Monroe blinked, looked at Reid again, and managed, "Uh, yes. You know your coffee."

"Please," she sniffed, waving a hand that jangled with bracelets. "You spend enough time around Maxwell and Fosters and you start learning to appreciate the good things in life."

"I know, right?" Monroe said, warming up to the woman who had flounced into his house and somehow turned it into a shrine to all things electronic. "Nick, the detective you're working with, just doesn't get it."

"Philistine."

"Tell me about it," Monroe sighed.


	6. Under the Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick makes a Christmas memory. In list form.

Nick's Christmas To Do List:

1\. Light Christmas candles.  
2\. Wrap presents.  
3\. Hang mistletoe.  
4\. Decorate tree.

Monroe's Christmas To Do List:

1\. What is that smell? It's like Christmas vomit. Dammit, Nick lit those candles again. Please. Like that really smells like a fir tree.  
2\. Ooh, wrapping. Shake presents. What's that leaking?  
3\. Convince Nick that attempts to pounce on him under mistletoe are unsuccessful because he can smell that stuff a mile away. Hope Nick doesn't realize that it comes in plastic, too.  
4\. Seriously? With the red everywhere? I know it's Christmas and all, but c'mon. Green and gold is tres chic and doesn't interfere with the whole, y'know, Blutbaden don't like red thing.

Nick's Revised Christmas List:

1\. Find candles and relight them.  
2\. Rewrap presents, now with newspaper around them. Replace snowglobe.  
3\. Buy plastic mistletoe.  
4\. Green and gold is very pretty...

Monroe's Revised Christmas List:

1\. Peppermint candles? Whose sick idea was that? Buy Kleenexes or resign self to sneezing all December.  
2\. Oooh, presents!  
3\. Dammit. (Except not really).  
4\. Told you.

Nick's Revised, Revised Christmas List:

1\. Will cranberries work?  
2\. STOP SHAKING THE PRESENTS, EDDIE.  
3\. Mistletoe a success. Invest in more.  
4\. Fine, fine. I'm buying you the first season of Queer Eye this Christmas.

Monroe's Revised, Revised Christmas List:

1\. No. Do you have something in 'small, wounded prey'? Or cinnamon rolls.  
2\. Ooh, presents.  
3\. Mistletoe a success. Invest in more.  
4\. Really? Queer Eye?

Nick's Revised, Revised, REVISED Christmas List:

1\. Cinnamon rolls it is. As for the former suggestion, we never speak of it again.  
2\. Dammit.  
3\. Hang mistletoe above bed.  
4\. Stop reading my lists, Monroe.


End file.
